


La Marianne

by FiKate



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Eve of battle, F/M, Kissing, Passion, Porn Battle, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiKate/pseuds/FiKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/57050.html">Porn Battle XIV</a> and the prompt <a href="http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/57050.html?thread=8151514#cmt8151514">Les Misérables (2012), Enjolras/Éponine, Revolution, streets, rain.</a></p><p>On the night before the revolution begins, Enjolras and Éponine see how alike they are. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marianne">La Marianne</a> is a symbol of the French Republic, she is a goddess of liberty, who fights for her liberty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Marianne

They were the most passionate patrons of the ABC Cafe, she who knew Marius better than she knew herself. Every change of mood, every fleeting smile, she tucked away for herself even if he meant them for another. He smiled to the world and that meant she could take a part and imagine that some of them were for her, who he knew and trusted to be always by his side. When he entered the cafe, he would look to see that everyone else was there, noting each face, greeting them with smiles and sharing some of Grantaire’s bottle. For her there was never that much, because he knew she would be there, that she would help him to find his Cosette and lose himself within the dream of her.

Enjolras saw and knew only the revolution, every breath, every word was meant to awaken hearts, to remind them that if France was to change then they must give all to her. The men around him gave him hope because he saw what they could become, how they would come together and Paris would rise with them. Whenever they wavered, he would look at them with his dark eyes that pulled all in to see the future he dreamed, a future built on blood and anger and hope. Like her, he learned all their ways, how they hid and how to draw them out, because without them, his dream was only his. For his dream to become reality, it must be created with all beside him, all of them dreaming the same dream.

The night before they would set Paris aflame with revolution, it rained, dark and cold rain that pushed the world down. He found the cafe too close with all the plans that were waiting, weren’t reality yet but soon they would be. At the corner he watched Paris hide itself away, fearful of what lay beyond their shutters, they wished to be safe, but safety wasn’t freedom, it was a lie. Éponine was a shadow on the streets and he smiled, she had a hunger in her eyes that showed him she understood. Paris had been cruel to her, but she never let it destroy her, she kept pushing against it. He went to meet her, draping the flag over them, “You’re soaked through, come in and be warm.”

She looked up at him and smiled though he saw that it didn’t reach her eyes, but he understood that. This world of theirs required them to choose what they show to those watching and she felt safe hiding away, “Thank you, the night is cold.”

Her gaze went to the red flag above them, a bright spot that held more light than all of Paris. His eyes followed hers as they moved inside, “Tomorrow it will fly over Paris to awaken the fire that waits within every breast.”

“Do you ever think of other fires, Enjolras? Do you only see the flame of revolution?”

The doorway was small and they were close together and he looked down at her, at the way the rain had pressed her thin clothing to her body and at her eyes that saw something he didn’t understand, “There were times I thought the fires of passion were equal to revolution, but they fade when met with struggle.”

She smiled then and he saw a familiar passion in her eyes before she pressed against him and kissed him, it was a kiss unlike any he’d known. The kisses of his childhood were careful things, negotiations of manners and lust, the kisses of his adolescence were quick, he was a prize, this was a kiss that declared; _we are alive._ Before she moved away, he joined the kiss, wrapping the flag around them, pressing her cold and hungry body to his own as she tugged at his lapels and he thought he tasted salt. Then she broke the kiss and looked at him, “I had to make certain that you understood. Until tomorrow when we set the world afire.”

He released her and she walked up the stairs, she was their Marianne, France’s despair and fire within a woman who changed the world.


End file.
